


A History of Terrible Decisions

by Mellorine



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellorine/pseuds/Mellorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look me in the optic and tell me you don’t have a history of making terrible decisions.”</p>
<p>And lie like that to a friend? <i>Hah.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A History of Terrible Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Dark Cybertron, but before Combiner Wars.

Swindle walked into Maccadam’s and edged his way up to the bar. Blurr glanced at him and continued making idle conversation with the Tankors.

He might not have been in in a while, but it didn’t look like much had changed. There was Waspinator, still singing with Sky-Byte (Waspinator off-key, Sky-Byte unreasonably talented). Slug failing hilariously at picking a fight with Fat Tankor. Fizzle still talking the audials off anyone who asked him about his “adventures on the Lost Light”. The Camiens were new, but he supposed he should have counted on them becoming regulars, having to deal with Starscream day in and day out.

Starscream. Just the mech Swindle had come here looking to _not_  think about. He needed a drink.

A glass slammed down in front of Swindle, making him jump. He looked up to see Blurr’s optics uncomfortably close. “Haven’t seen you here in a while,” Blurr accused.

Swindle waved a servo vaguely. This wasn’t quite the conversation he’d been looking to have, especially not with Blurr. “Yeah, I’ve been,“ _talking to Starscream_ , _talking to the Stunticons,_ _avoiding…stuff,_ “busy.”

“Hn.” Blurr nodded, mouth twisting into a frown. “You don’t say.”

Swindle took a drink to hide his unease. Damn his over-large optics. “So I, uh, did I miss anything exciting?”

Blurr stared at him wordlessly, then turned to the rest of the bar. “Closing early today! Everyone out!” His announcement was met with groans and more than a few knowing looks, but soon enough the bar was empty.

“So.” Blurr returned from locking the front door and sat down next to Swindle. “What the frag.”

“What?” Swindle shifted self-consciously in his chair. 

Blurr ex-vented heavily, turning to face the businessmech. “You make coming in here damn well near a habit, and then all of a sudden you just stop showing up. Gosh, I wonder, what happened to Swindle? Is he okay? I know he’s made himself some pretty nasty enemies on both sides of the line. But no, it turns out you’ve just been _busy_. So wildly, incomprehensibly _busy_ you can’t be bothered to even leave a message saying hey, Blurr, _pal_ , I have some business to take care of, I’ll be in next week. Or next month. Or whenever I get around to it.” He took a drink, grimacing.

Swindle rocked back, offended. How’d he get off, talking like Swindle owed him a single thing? “I –. My life doesn’t revolve around your damn bar!”

“My _damn bar_ does more to keep Cybertron functional than any ridiculous plot you might be cooking up with _Starscream_ ,” Blurr snapped.

Swindle froze. “Oh.” Well, frag. He looked down at the countertop. “Does everyone know about that?”

“Tall Tankor told me,” Blurr muttered into his glass.

Swindle snorted. “Yeah, he _would_.”

“Hey.” Blurr’s servo clamped down on Swindle’s shoulder and swung him around to pin him with a serious look. “Look me in the optic and tell me you don’t have a history of making terrible decisions.”

And lie like that to a friend? _Hah_. Swindle smiled crookedly. “I decided to come here, didn’t I?”

Blurr looked away, fiddling with his drink. “Yeah. You did.” Swindle watched his servos move. Always had to be doing something. Fidgeting. Fixing something. 

“Hey.” He reached out and covered Blurr’s servo with his own. Words stuck in his vocalizer. 

Setting the glass back down, Blurr laid his helm down on the countertop, lacing his digits with Swindle’s, and the businessmech rubbed his thumb absentmindedly against Blurr’s palm plating. 

“C’mon,” Blurr nodded towards Swindle’s barely-touched glass. “Drink your drink, it’s on the house.”

“On the house!” Swindle feigned surprise. “You really _did_ miss me, didn’t you.”

Blurr laughed and knocked his servo against Swindle’s helm. “Oh, you know I’ve just been counting the days.”

“Pff, you sap.” Swindle leaned into Blurr’s servo as the bartender traced his helm-crown. Such good servos. Constantly needing to fiddle with something really did have its advantages sometimes. 

Tension melted off his frame as they both slumped on the countertop, lazy touches smoothing over each others servo- and helm-plating. 

“Hey.” Swindle looked up from watching the play of light through his glass of engex, meeting Blurr’s optics. “Just tell me all you’re working on with Starscream is figuring out what his next paintjob will be.”

Oh, wouldn’t that be nice. Well, no, actually it’d be the pit. Everyone knew what a finicky brat Starscream could be. Wouldn’t pay nearly as well, either. Swindle offered Blurr his best businessmech smile, all confidence and assurance. If someone dunked him in a reservoir, he’d probably feel less oily than he did right now. “All I’m working on with Starscream is figuring out what his next paintjob will be. Right now we’re torn between blue and silver.”

“I’d go with silver.” Blurr’s gaze slid away to fix on his glass again. “If it turns out you’re lying to me, I’m going to punch you in the face. Just a heads up.”

Swindle smiled. A genuine one this time. He figured owed him that much at least. Not like it cost him anything, anyway. 

“Sounds good to me.”


End file.
